But despite my fears, we made it through to the older part of the sewers where the bricks crumbled and the tunnels grew narrower, the ceiling so low that Horace, in Sacha’s enormous form, had to duck his bald head. When the reddish glow that always shone from the potion lair bounced off the walls ahead, my legs nearly buckled. We’d arrived.
The prince, in Neo’s form, took the lead position, while wiry Imogen/Viktor and brutish Horace/Sacha closed in tight on either side of me. We walked silently on, then ducked through the crumbling entrance into the round potions room. Glass bottles and decanters lined the stone shelves of the round room, a cauldron bubbled as always over the fire in the walk-in hearth, and the three ancient witches hunched over their work at the tall, cluttered tables.
They glanced up as one when we entered and hissed like cats.
I gulped. Oh, goodie. Already going well.
From the shadows by the file-filled cabinet we’d raided, Ludolf himself rose from a stool, unfolding his long, thin legs. The fire cast his shadow, long and skeletal and flickering against the wall, looming over us. Even from all the way across the room, I could see his eyes bulging with rage, his thin lips pulled back from his small, sharp teeth.
He ducked his head, bony shoulders up around his ears, and slowly stalked toward us. “Jolene.” His face twitched with barely concealed fury. “How nice of you to come back after borrowing my property.”
He swept a long, thin hand at the cabinet full of papers and files. “One of my soldiers spotted you entering the tunnels and alerted me. I’m so pleased they weren’t mistaken.”
I spun, as if to run, but the princess/Viktor and Sacha/Horace caught me by the arms and held me. I put on an act of struggling, but they spun me around to face the mob boss of the shifters.
“Coward,” he spat.
I curled my lip back. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you. You sold out your own people for money and power.” I glared at him. “The little lap dog of King Roch—never good enough to have any actual power or status.”
He paused briefly, then stalked toward me, his skin red and blotchy. Princess Imogen/Viktor cackled and twitched—a toned-down version of her first performance. I’d given her a few tips, and she was doing a better job of imitating him this time—though it was hard to imagine her behind that tattooed, gaunt facade. I rolled the vial in my right hand, concealed behind Sacha/Horace’s beefy forearm, and ran my thumb over the cork stopper—ready to pop it off.
Francis, in bat form, squeaked and swooped overhead. I shot him a perplexed look, but then focused on the mob boss who approached me.
I bared my teeth at Ludolf as he stalked closer, only about ten feet away now. “You can do your worst to me, but powerful people know what you’ve done, now. You’re over with.” I waited—willing him just a little closer.
Francis, as a bat, dove closer to my head.
“You idiot meddler.” Ludolf shivered with anger, muscles in his sharp jaw twitching. “You stupid, stupid girl. You’ve sealed your fate. As if I didn’t have a backup plan. As if I don’t have friends in high places to bail me out. As if I couldn’t leave this island a rich man and disappear to live my days out in luxury!”
His deadly calm dropped as he shrieked at me and stalked closer, eyes bulging, face apoplectic. “You’re the only one who's over! You’ll pay for your—”
Ludolf froze, some of the color draining from his face. He pulled back, brows pinched in confusion. “What is this?”
I frowned at him, then glanced at the prince/Neo. He looked behind us, eyes wide, mouth slack with fear. I turned, and ice flooded over me. The real Neo, Sacha, and Viktor stood in the tunnel behind us, mouths agape, eyes wide. We all stood, as if paralyzed, for what felt like several long moments.
Horace/fake Sacha nudged me and growled. “Do it—now.”
He released my arm, as did the princess/Imogen. I uncorked the vial with my thumb and stalked the last few feet up to Ludolf as he growled at the real Neo, “Get them!”
I glared up at the skeletal man who’d stolen my ability to shift, my powers, my life, for so long. The man who’d trapped shifters in their second forms and sold them to a zoo, who’d trapped my friend Will in poverty and servitude, who’d profited from the discrimination against his own people.
I squared my shoulders as cries and grunts sounded behind me, along with the scuffle of feet. The hunched witches together let out a sustained shriek, a wailing alarm that echoed through the tunnels.
Just as Ludolf opened his mouth, no doubt to cast some spell on me, I threw the vial of purple potion into his face. I clutched the empty glass vial in my trembling hand and watched him, breathless. Would it work? Or was this the end for me?
With a strangled cry, Ludolf suddenly shifted into heron form. I blinked, stunned, then lurched forward and tackled the bird, wrapping my legs around his wings and getting a choke hold around his long neck. With my other hand I pinched his long, sharp beak shut, mindful of that charming story he’d told me once about how herons liked to peck the eyes out of their prey.
He thrashed and groaned, but I held tight to him, straining to restrain him. The old witches kept their screaming alarm up, and I glanced behind me. Horace, Prince Harry, and Princess Imogen were back in their normal forms, glowing palms aimed at the real
